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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140738">A Millennium Here or There</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiroMyStory/pseuds/HiroMyStory'>HiroMyStory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Conversations, Episode: s05e06 Blueballz, F/M, Light Angst, Lucifer really hates DJs, Missing Scene, One Shot, a few puns, introspection but not necessarily communicating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:41:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26140738</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiroMyStory/pseuds/HiroMyStory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait. Something you said before.”</p><p>“Hmm?” Lucifer leans in, pressing a kiss against below Chloe's ear, before pulling back, the lines of his face soft, the same as the curve of his lips. “You’ll have to be more specific.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>456</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Millennium Here or There</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/venividivictorious/pseuds/venividivictorious"> venividivictorious </a> for the beta read!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A Millennium Here or There</p><p>Their twenty-seventh potential witness hops from the festival trailer Chloe’s commandeered for impromptu interviews and into the predawn light. When the door thumps closed, she tosses her pen on the open folder in front of her.</p><p>“That’s all the crew and everyone with premium access wristbands. Unless you consider”—she glances at her notes—“‘derivative beats’ or ‘can’t mix, can’t scratch’ motive, I don’t think we have any real leads toward DJ Pexxa’s killer. Dan’s probably done screening the next group of witnesses. I should ask him to start sending in the ones who might have useful information.”</p><p>“Oh, splendid.” Lucifer heaves an exaggerated sigh. “More DJ vu.”</p><p>An invisible thread pulls Chloe toward him, her smile slipping out against her will. Oh, she’s missed this.</p><p>“I can’t believe this many people willingly pay money to see grown men playing with knobs, and not in the fun way,” he continues. “But, if anyone can connect with these intolerable <em>DJ</em> fans, it’s Daniel. Probably listens to dubstep while he does CrossFit. <em>Do</em> you think he’d wub one out, afterward?”</p><p>An eye roll she does muster, for old times’ sake.</p><p>“Oh, I’ve missed that.” His voice is velvet around the edges.</p><p>Chloe’s eyes crinkle at his unintentional echoing of her thoughts. It feels good to be on the same page. The last two months have been— “Wait. Something you said before.”</p><p>“Hmm?” He leans in, pressing a kiss against below her ear, before pulling back, the lines of his face soft, the same as the curve of his lips. “You’ll have to be more specific. I say a lot of things.”</p><p>Chloe snorts and then laughs more fully at the inelegant sound. “Yes, you do.” Her smile slips as she thinks. “You said you’d been imagining our reunion for thousands of years.”</p><p>He nods, distracted by playing with the high collar of her favorite suede jacket, running his fingers along the zipper. “Right,” he agrees. “Time runs differently down there, after all.”</p><p>She shivers as his fingers brush along the neckline of her black t-shirt. “Linda said. Michael, too.”</p><p>“Did he, now?” His tone sharpens, and his fingers fall back to his knee.</p><p>“Yeah, he kept saying how long it had been, how he’d—you’d—changed.”</p><p>“The perfidious prat probably could tell he wasn’t fooling you, my clever, <em>clever</em> detective.” He’s leaning in, looking into her eyes with <em>such</em> adoration. She flushes under the intensity of it, knowing once they solved this case, she’ll take him back to his loft, and—</p><p>He bops her nose.</p><p>“Stop!” she yelps, grabbing his fingers and not letting go, belatedly quieting her giggles and glancing at the door.</p><p>No one comes in, and Chloe scolds with a head shake, yet, again, can’t keep the smile off her face to even pretend she’s annoyed. But, she’s getting distracted. She toys with his fingers, and he sits up a little as her seriousness bleeds into the space between them.</p><p>“I—I hoped he was exaggerating.”</p><p>“What’s a millennium here or there? It’s good to be back in L.A. The overpriced taco trucks; the completely unwarranted optimism; the utterly dreary cellar you call a precinct; my corvette, traffic aside, of course.” He pauses a beat. “You.”</p><p>“Lucifer.”</p><p>“Worried I’d forget about you?” he teases. “Believe me, you don’t forget the first person who shoots you.”</p><p>Chloe jerks her hands back, but Lucifer holds on, so she ends up pulling his hands into her lap.</p><p>“That wasn’t the right joke, again. I’m sorry, Detective.” His lips take a pensive turn downward. “I’m used to time, especially time in Hell.”</p><p>She dips her head and thinks of how he talks about feuds from the dawn of time as if they happened yesterday. She doesn’t understand; how can she? “I—I tried not thinking about you while you were gone,” she admits. “It hurt too much.”</p><p>He smooths the twitch of his mouth, the pinch of his eyes, almost immediately, but Chloe sees.</p><p>“I’m sorry; I’m sorry. I’m messing this up.” She squeezes his hands before letting them go. “I’m good. We’re good. I should get Dan to send in our next batch of sky-high concert-goers.”</p><p>Lucifer reaches out, touches her hair, and she doesn’t stand. His eyes move over her face as if trying to suss out a mystery. “I didn’t forget. I <em>treasured</em> my memories of this life.” His fingertips ghost across her cheek. “Treasured my memories of <em>you</em>. Every day.” The longing in his voice tears at Chloe’s heart. “Not that that are ‘days’ in Hell, per se,” he rushes to add.</p><p>“I can’t imagine. I mean…” It was <em>so much</em> time.</p><p>“I’m here with you now, Detective, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be. Even if it means interviewing these glittery fans of <em>DJs</em>. Nothing like getting back to normal.”</p><p>“So, all that time, it didn’t…change you?”</p><p>She sees the quip on the tip of his tongue, but Lucifer pauses, considers instead. “I didn’t think I would be back.” His touch on her chin, his thumb brushing across her lip is so light it seems as if he can’t believe he’s here now. “I thought I’d missed my chance. A damned soul made me realize that, actually. I believe you ‘met’ him, postmortem, as it were.” He huffs a laugh, incredulous and sad.</p><p>The fierceness of his regard is overwhelming to the point she realizes she hasn’t taken a breath she needs. Pulling it in through her nose, she tries to smile, nod, be reassuring. He’s the one who’s gone through Hell, after all. And, as he said, he’s with her now. Even if she’d rather he say nothing has changed at all.</p><p>“Do you know, I even missed Daniel?” Lucifer goes on. “Preposterous as this essential-crystal-fit obsession may be, and it’s not like…”</p><p>He trails off at Chloe’s laugh, which is a shaky thing that grows stronger over the seconds.</p><p>When she has the courage to look up again, he’s watching her, his smile tender and still bleeding that soul-aching longing. She finds her head tilting toward his, even as his does the same, until she pulls his forehead against her cheekbone. She wishes she understood; she wishes she was <em>surer</em>. Her fingers slide into his hair, gripping tight, probably too tight, but she has no intention to let go. As if she could hold him there for another thousand years.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, or come find me on Tumblr at <a href="https://hiromystory.tumblr.com/">hiromystory</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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